


So Far From Perfect

by swv



Series: And You Thought That I’d Leave You [1]
Category: Blink-182
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Violence, Gang Violence, Gangs, M/M, Stalking, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-28 13:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11418726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swv/pseuds/swv
Summary: Matt wakes up and don’t know where he is or how he got there. Then it all comes back to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of, if you have experienced any sort of physical violent trauma or are sensitive to these kinds of subjects for whatever reason, please don’t read this. You have been warned.  
> Secondly, I don’t claim to own anyone in this story and I don’t make money from this. The characters in this story is based on and share names with real life persons, but I don’t claim to know anything. This is just a figment of my imagination.
> 
> As always, thanks to my wonderful beta who always is helpful! Anything wrong in this story is my own fault (he can attest to me being a bit too stubborn on certain things) and after a couple of thousand words your brain becomes mush.
> 
> Okay, so I love all the Blink guys, previously and currently active. I hope that how some are portrayed in this fic or this very unorthodox pairing won't scare you off.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Matt woke up and felt his shoulders and neck strain, like he had fallen asleep in his armchair again. But he wasn’t in his armchair; he couldn’t move his arms and legs, when he opened his eyes to look at what was restraining him he couldn’t see a thing. He was a grown man and he wouldn’t start panicking for the smallest thing, but when he felt his nose bleeding and found his mouth taped shut he couldn’t stop his heart from picking up it’s pace and tears from prickle in the corners of his eyes.

 

Somewhere in the room he heard voices and he tried to move, to get help. He heard an unfamiliar voice to his left. “I think he’s waking up.”

 

And then the darkness was pulled away from before his eyes, the florescent light in the room blinding him for a moment.

 

He was tied down to a chair and before him was three men in a room with concrete walls, almost like a garage. The man in the middle looked short compared to the guys flanking him, his arms were covered with tattoos and his head was shaved. An icy cold, soul piercing gaze meeting Matt’s.

 

“Is that really the guy?” The voice from the left spoke again and Matt turned to the source; a more compact man with messy hair. The guy looked doubtfully at Matt, like he could answer him. And Matt tried; he tried to scream “no, I’m not the guy”, but only a muffled sound escaped him behind the tape and he felt the panic swell up in his chest.

 

To his relief the tattooed guy in the middle spoke up. “No, that’s not the guy.” He sounded angry and Matt followed his eyes to the man on his right; the tallest of the three men, shoulders hunched in that way that tall people always seemed to do. Like they were constantly afraid to knock their heads on something. His eyes were hazy, like he was on drugs. A shudder running through Matt as he recognized him as the guy he had met walking down the street, the man that had knocked him down with a single blow; the last thing he could remember.

 

Had the guy abducted him? And why?

 

“How the fuck did you get the wrong guy?” The man with the tattoos had become angry with the stoner and the guy with the messy hair was snickering while watching the exchange of words. Matt, on the other hand, felt tears start running down his cheeks. The situation too much to take; not only had he been taken for someone else, abducted and tied down but now the tension in the room was rising and he started to fear for his life. They could do anything to him and he could do nothing to protect himself.

 

The tattooed man turned to look at Matt shortly before turning to the guy with the messy hair. “Take care of it, make sure that he-” He pointed over his shoulder to the hazy eyed stoner. “watches everything and learns  **something** from this.”

 

Matt didn’t see where he went off to, too focused on the wording _take care of it_ ; was this where he was gonna die? Were they gonna kill him now? He had seen their faces, **why** had he looked at their faces?

 

The messy haired guy hunched down before him, looking up into his face with a small smile. Not an evil smile, just a smile that told Matt that he didn’t really care about what happened to him. “So, you got yourself mixed up in a pretty little mess, haven’t you?” Matt closed his eyes and started shaking his head violently, silently begging anyone to help him.

 

He felt the man’s hand go into his pocket and he withdrew Matt’s wallet. He went through it until he seemingly found what he was looking for. _My drivers license_ , Matt thought, feeling helpless. “I’ll be keeping this, but don’t worry-” the man paused and glanced at Matt’s license, grinning. “you’ll get out of this alive today.”

 

A hand on Matt’s cheek, rubbing away his tears made him open his eyes again, meeting the other man’s gaze. He felt hope rise in his chest; he would live and he wanted to laugh out of relief.

 

Mumbled words, almost like an afterthought. “I’m gonna have to rough you up a bit though, to keep you from telling anyone.”

 

He felt his stomach drop, the panic starting up again and taking over any rational thought in his head. All he could think was _no no no no no please no_ and the tears, those fucking tears, started running again.

 

The first blow hit him over his face, snapping his head to one side and when his sight came back and the ringing in his ears dulled down a bit he was looking at the stoner guy, the guy who put him there in the first place. A sudden anger, more violent than he ever felt before, rose up inside of him. The next blow, over his throat this time, had him forget anything about his anger though as he struggled to let air down his aching windpipe.

 

The next few hits was to his chest and face, he lost track of time and only focused on breathing through his bloodied nose. He didn’t have any fear left in him, all he could think was that maybe the messy haired guy had lied; maybe he wouldn’t get out of this alive after all.

 

After what seemed like an eternity it all stopped, as suddenly as it had started. Matt could hardly see through the blood running from his split eyebrow but he made out the contours of the two men in a corner of the room, talking in hushed voices. One of them left and Matt prayed that it was the messy haired guy.

 

After a moment he felt a warm washcloth wipe at his face and someone in heaven must have liked him because through the less swollen eye he saw the man who had kidnapped him, kneeling before him. They were alone in the room.

 

“Wasn’t that unpleasant? You don’t want that happening again, do you?” Matt shook his head tiredly. “Then you better keep your mouth shut.” If they had only asked, Matt could have told them that he wouldn’t tell **anyone** even without the beating.

 

There was a pause, the man before him looked like he was about to say something more but stopped himself. Matt was feeling tired, his body was aching and he felt indifferent to the stoner’s apparent unease; he had enough with worrying about himself.

 

“I’ll get you cleaned up and drop you off in the city again, okay?” Matt just closed his eyes, not enough energy to even nod.

 

He saw the darkness come over his head again through his closed eyelids and felt the stoner guy leading him somewhere. He could smell wet grass and earth, a metallic smell and then he heard a trunk pop open. A steady hand on his upper arm helped him to lay in the trunk and he was not able to fight it, too tired to even try. At least he would be allowed to lie down.

 

He didn’t know how long they drove for, or if he was awake for the whole trip, maybe he shut down. As the car stopped he just prayed that he could go home soon, or that they just killed him and got it over with.

 

The trunk opened and the hood over his head was pulled away, the stoner guy was looking down at him for a while. Matt didn’t bother with returning the gaze, only focusing on his next breath. It seemed like ages before he was harshly tugged from the car. His hands was still bound behind his back and he could hardly stand. The guy must have seen it because he cut the tape holding Matt’s hands together; Matt wouldn’t be able to put up a fight in his state.

 

“About two blocks in that direction-” The guy, towering over him, pointed down one of the streets. “is a police station. If you wanna take your chances of running into us again you can go that way.” The stoner guy paused, looking into his eyes and Matt felt a shiver run down his spine at the distant gaze meeting his. A hand came up to his face, wiped away new tears – when had he started crying again? – before pulling away the tape covering his mouth. “But if you go a block in the other direction you’ll be back where I picked you up, I guess you live around there?”

 

Matt looked down, he already knew that he would go home and he suspected that the other guy knew as well. He heard the trunk slam shut and before he could look up, the car was already driving away from him.

 

He leaned up against the wall behind him, fighting back the urge to throw up and tried to find enough strength to move his muscles. And then he walked home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A regretful Tom tries to make his amends, but fear of how Matt’s gonna react holds him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Addition to earlier warnings! If you have a trauma after experiencing stalking or are sensitive to those kinds of subjects for whatever reason, don’t read this.

Tom couldn’t forget the kid he had picked up some weeks ago, how he was at fault for Mark beating him up and presumably scaring him for life. Those accusatory, horrified eyes had haunted him for weeks. He knew that Travis had to make sure that the guy wouldn’t talk and that Mark didn’t take pleasure in hurting people. Well, not much anyway. But the kid had looked so devastated when he left him on the street. And it was all Tom’s fault.

 

It was supposed to be a quick snatch, he was gonna grab a dealer that owed Travis some money and Mark was gonna scare him a bit. But Tom had been high and fucked up – really fucked up – and now his head was a mess.

 

He had tried to block out the images of the kid in mind, to get baked and forget. It had always worked before, but not this time. He had tried to talk to Mark about what had happened, but Mark wasn’t interested in reliving the memory. Tom couldn’t blame him, Mark had been forced to beat up an innocent guy because of Tom’s mistakes.

 

So instead he started hanging out in the area where he had picked the kid up, hoping to run into him and… Yeah, and then what? Apologize in some way, he guessed, but the kid would never forgive him. And why would he?

 

Tom had made sure that the kid had the worst night of his life.

 

It took some weeks before he spotted the kid again. After working for Travis he had no problem with following someone unnoticed. Mark was the scary guy with the scary fists and Tom was the stealthy one; the one that could follow anyone and make it seem natural. He was the kind of guy that could disarm a situation by talking. He hoped that he could make the kid trust him too, but he had decided to start with following him, to learn about him.

 

It wasn’t hard; the kid was on his guard for sure but had no idea of what to look for in a stalker and he hadn’t tried to hide. A quick chat with a pretty girl in a record store let him know that the kid's name was Matt and that he worked there; by using his charms with an administration secretary at the university he had followed Matt to he found out that he was enrolled as an Art Major and that his last name was Skiba.

 

From there on it was easy; with such an unusual name as Matthew Skiba it took him no time to figure out where the kid lived and how old he was – 22 years old and just a couple of months younger than Tom. He would never have guessed it, even if the kid seemed to take care of himself sufficiently he looked so much younger. Tom knew that the life he lived tore at him, had aged him in more ways than one, but Matt was still just a kid who was trying his wings for the first time on his own.

 

After tracking down what he thought was the right address he had parked across the street from the apartment building that he had identified as Matt’s, waiting to see if his information was correct. He could have entered the building and looked for the name on the doors but the risk of running into the kid in the hallway was too high. He opted for waiting to see if the kid would come to the apartment instead.

 

When he could confirm that Matt indeed lived in the building he felt at a loss on what to do. The fear of the kid – _Matt_ – seeing him and getting panicked had him speeding away before he could do something stupid.

 

He found himself returning to the apartment building though; it was in a neglected part of town and he had made deliveries of Travis **merch** to the area on a regular basis. At first he just wanted to check up on Matt, see how he was doing and if the possible trauma he had been through had left any traces in the kid. But over time he started to spend time in his car, watching Matt go about his life.

 

He wasn’t a creep, it was usually a part of his job, but he had trouble sleeping and the nightmares of the assault was almost constant now. To see Matt slowly return to, what Tom presumed was, his usual routine was helping with his own conscience.

 

But that night when he found himself outside the kid’s apartment was a particularly bad night for him, his emotions rushing at him unhindered. He was looking up at what he had identified as Matt’s window and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being the worst kind of person on the fucking planet; he had made sure the kid was practically tortured and didn’t even apologize.

 

Before his mind really registered what he was doing he was locking the car and walking to the building, taking the steps two or three at a time and didn’t come to until he was before Matt’s door. This was probably the most stupid thing he could ever do but he just **had** to.

 

And he knocked.

 

The door didn’t have a peephole and Tom was thankful for the extra seconds to fix his features as to not intimidate the kid too much. The door opened a bit and the kid looked out at him, eyes going wide and Tom saw the door starting to close. The kid was too slow though; in a fluid motion Tom pressed into the apartment, pinning Matt against the door as he shut it and covered the kid’s mouth with his hand.

 

Too late he realized that the situation – restraining and silencing the kid – possibly could remind Matt of that horrible night they had met. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I won’t hurt you but you need to be quiet.” The kid was shaking against him and his breath was coming in short gasps against Tom’s hand. “I’m sorry, but can you be quiet for me?”

 

The kid was nodding in jerky motions, like he didn’t have control over his muscles and Tom sighed in relief. As he eased his grip holding the kid up he felt him start sliding down the door. Tom took a new grip, snaking an arm around Matt’s middle and holding him up against his own body while covering his mouth with the other as he steered them into the small living room. He let go of Matt and helped him sit on the couch, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him, seeking Matt’s eyes.

 

“Can you breathe?” The kid was looking like he was having a panic attack and it worried Tom. People got more unpredictable while in panic.

 

After a pause the kid finally nodded, but didn’t meet Tom’s eyes. He felt relief wash over him; the panic seemed to reduce for every second and after mere minutes Matt just looked sad and worried.

 

Tom got up and looked around the living room, deciding to give the kid some space. He had band posters on the walls and an impressive bookshelf, cheap mismatched furniture that he had to navigate around in the small apartment. Through a door on his left he could see a small bedroom and in the right corner of the apartment was a small kitchenette.

 

“I haven’t told anyone.” It was barely a whisper but Tom was happy to hear the kids voice. He realized it was the first time he heard him speak; he could tell that behind what now sounded weak and frail usually was a deep and throaty voice. He turned around and smiled, hoped that it would reassure Matt.

 

“I know.”

 

Instead the kid’s breath came in shaky gasps again, turned away and face hidden in his hands. “Why?” Matt finally croaked out, making something in Tom’s heart ache.

 

He sat down in front of the kid again, gently prying his hands of his face and turning Matt to look at him. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I thought you were doing good. You looked like you were doing good.” He took a deep breath, he had said too much, let the kid know he had been followed. He had to do something to gain the kids forgiveness; the big and scared eyes of the kid before him was breaking him apart. “I came to apologize, I wanted to say how sorry I am for the… for the mix up.”

 

The kid closed his eyes, small choked off whimpers escaping him despite his seemingly best efforts at gathering his composure. “Please, leave.”

 

“No, wait, I have money.” That stopped the kid; he opened his eyes and looked straight into Tom’s. The look he was given made him feel small. “I can get you anything you need, I just need to know that you will be okay. I need to make amends.”

 

The kid just silently stared at him. He had calmed down and Tom thought it a small victory. “Leave me, please. I don’t want anything from you and I never wanna see you again. Please, leave.”

 

Tom was good with people, he knew when to push and when to back off. This was definitely a situation where he should back off.

 

He got up, walking over to the small kitchenette where he had observed a notepad and a pen next to a phone. He wrote down his number before holding up the notepad for Matt to see.

 

“I will leave you and you won’t ever have to see me again, but I owe you one and if you ever find yourself in a situation where you...” _Need someone with my kind of connections_. He paused, reformulated the sentence in his head. The kid was scared enough as it was. “Need help, you can call me and I’ll help you.”

 

He put the notepad down again, straightened it out so that it was laying as it had been before he picked it up, looked over at Matt once more before leaving the apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens and Matt tries to deal with it, he’s just not very good at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves domestic violence, I hope you haven’t experienced it but if you have I recommend that you don’t read this chapter and drop this story here.

It had almost been a year since Matt was kidnapped, exactly nine months to the day since his kidnapper had showed up in his apartment. He had considered moving to some other place, maybe even home to his mother. But his mother had met a new man a few years ago and Matt couldn’t stand living in the same house as him as they never quite got along. So when the stoner guy never returned he just stayed in the apartment.

  


The only trace of the stoner guy had been a plain white envelope containing a piece of paper with a new phone number a few months back. No message, no name but the only person who could have sent it would be the guy that had visited him that one night.Matt had seen enough crime shows with his mom while growing up to know that someone in the stoner guy’s line of work probably changed phones often.

 

Most of the time Matt was successful in pushing the man out of his mind and lately he had other problems to worry about. He had been over to his mother’s for dinner some time ago and when she had been in the kitchen he had helped his sisters study, noticing how they were less lively than usually. And when he asked them they had told him about how his stepfather was abusing his mother.

 

It had hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt every emotion at the same time. The anger, the fear, the sadness. It was hard to grasp how the smiling woman in the kitchen was being beaten by her husband.

 

He had gone back a few days later, when his stepfather was at work, and tried to subtly ask her about it; he tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t listen. She came up with excuses for him. “ _She had been nagging on him, it wasn’t strange if he had been a bit upset_ ” or “ _it had been a mistake, we’ve talked it though_ ”.

 

And only a week later he had seen the bruises for the first time. On her arms. He had been so upset, had confronted his mother, had screamed at the man; made a mess. His mother had shut down, turned away from him and it wasn’t before he apologized to his stepfather that his mom started talking to him again. Allowing him back into the house.

 

He wanted to scream, he wanted to call the police, to take his sisters away from there and get his mother help but he was powerless. His mother refused to talk to anyone about it and when he mentioned the police she told him flat out that she would deny everything. She told him she loved her husband and would protect him, and Matt couldn’t do anything to stop the train wreck happening in slow motion before him.

 

Last night he had been at the house again. He had tried to be more present in their life, to be around and watch everything that happened; he tried to watch over his mother and sisters. When his mother had opened the door he had been met with a face adorned with a black eye and the sight had taken him back to that night a year ago. When that had happened to him. To the weeks following his own assault when he didn’t dare to face himself in the mirror in fear of making the memory a reality with the visual confirmation. He never wanted his mother to feel as violated as he had.

 

And on this morning, on this most hopeless of mornings, he found a white envelope in his mail. Yet another phone number. Without thinking it through he called the number, hoping that he would have enough courage to talk to the man who had put him through so much. The one Matt held personally responsible for the torture he had been put through.

 

But no one answered and Matt felt a new depth of hopelessness wash over him. It was a long shot anyway he tried to tell himself but couldn’t deny that he had hoped, if only for a moment, that the stoner guy could help him.

 

When he got home from work that night he immediately noticed that something was wrong. The lights were on in the apartment and he was sure he hadn’t left them on when he left for work that day. With an unsteady breath he opened the door full on and in the middle of the sofa was the man sitting with his hunched shoulder, reading through one of Matt’s books about art history that he had left on the coffee table the previous night.

 

The guy looked up and gave him a relaxed smile. “Sorry I couldn’t answer when you called earlier, was doing stuff downtown.” He put the book down with careful precision, the same movements as the last time when he’d written his number on the notepad. “What can I do for you, Matt?”

 

Matt felt his mouth hanging open and closed it abruptly, not sure if he should enter the apartment or just turn around in the door and leave. His kidnapper was in his living room and he could almost physically feel the abuse all over again as his kidnaper had invaded his safe space; he hadn’t anticipated to feel like that. He had thought he had moved on.

 

As he stood there, frozen in place by the shock turning into panic in his chest, a picture of his family caught his eyes. It was taken before his father had died and that was all it took for him to gather his courage and enter the apartment. His father would have wanted him to protect his mother and sisters, it was his job now that his father was dead. The click of the door locking behind him as it slid shut had him wince; he was now locked in his apartment with one of the men that had haunted his nightmares for months after his kidnapping. He didn’t know what to do with himself, standing awkwardly in his own hallway.

 

The guy was silent, looking at him carefully and not moving. After a minute Matt felt confident enough that the guy wouldn’t attack him and carefully moved into the living room, sitting down in the armchair opposite the couch.

 

The guy smiled at him again and Matt felt like time stood still; he had no idea for how long they had stared at each other but he couldn’t make himself say anything.

 

“Okay, this isn’t working for me.” The guy said and got up; paused as his tall frame towered over Matt and he felt himself press back into the backrest of the armchair. “Wait here.”

 

He heard the front door close and panic started racing through him. Was he getting the violent guy with the messy hair? Was he gonna hurt him again? Hell, he could still smell the metallic wet ground from that night, the oil stench from the room he had been in, the smell of tiers from the trunk of the car.

 

Or maybe he had just up and left? Matt knew that he shouldn’t expect too much from a stoner that would get high enough that he kidnapped the wrong person, but this stoner was his last hope and if this fell through he had no idea of what else to do.

 

He should just get up and chase after his last hope, fear the only thing keeping him back. He had almost gathered enough courage to get up as the front door opened again and he heard the clink of glass against glass, footsteps moving around behind him. He heard the guy briefly rummaging through his kitchenette before appearing in front of Matt again.

 

The stoner guy’s movements were careful and he looked Matt in the eyes as he showed him the plastic bags in his hands before putting them down. He walked back to the kitchenette and came back with plates and forks, placing them in the middle of the table before quickly leaning back, as if he didn’t want to be too close to Matt.

 

It was almost comical how the man who had watched him being abused for what had seemed like hours was being careful like a scared cat before him.

 

The guy sat down again and looked a bit uncomfortable. “I looked through your fridge while waiting for you and either you’re not eating meat or you’re short on cash, so I ordered a bit of everything. I hope you’ll eat with me?” He opened one of the bags and took out boxes of Chinese food, then opened the other and placed a couple of beer bottles on the table.

 

Matt was exhausted with feeling on edge around the other man, he could barely keep his mind together and felt how he cared less and less. If the hunched over stoner guy was gonna hurt him he probably already would have done it and, really, Matt was out of options.

 

It was like a dance; as one of them reached forward to grab something from the table, the other one leaned back and vice versa. It was natural movements, like two alike charged magnets moving together.

 

However, Matt still had a question and he was worried that it would put the other man off his nice behaviour. It was important for him though, he needed something to feel connected to the other man; to make him less of a monster and more of a man.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The other man paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked up, Matt thought he looked shocked, and then he laughed. “I know so much about you that I keep forgetting that you know nothing about me.” The man explained and continued laughing, less violently now. He looked at Matt contemplative for a moment before smiling. “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me the name you gave me in your mind and I’ll tell you my real name?”

 

“The stoner guy.” Matt didn’t even have to think about it.

 

The guy raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem upset. “Only fitting. Well, my mother calls me Tom so how about we use that name instead.”

 

Matt just nodded, the guy had taken it unexpectedly well. “Last name?”

 

Tom paused his eating again and looked at him for a bit longer this time. “You know that I can’t tell you that.”

 

Matt looked down at the plate in his lap; he had tried anyway. He was feeling far from comfortable, but strangely relaxed; like whatever would happen didn’t matter as long as Tom was gonna help him. He cared about his mother’s and sisters’ safety more than he cared about himself.

 

“Matt, I don’t expect that knowing my name will make you trust me but whatever your problem is it must be pretty bad if you chose to call me of all people.” Matt looked up into the other's face again and gave a small nod. It felt good that Tom acknowledged how hard this was for him. “I can probably help, and if I can’t I know people who can, so will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

 

And Matt did, reluctantly at first; to share his personal life with a man who had hurt him in such a traumatizing way was harder than he ever could have imagined it to be. But the more he told Tom the harder it became to stop.

 

After Matt finally got control over his mouth again Tom stared out into the room, he looked so far away and deep in thought that Matt felt sure that calling him had been the right thing to do.

 

“Do you care if the asshole gets hurt?” Matt didn’t hesitate as he shook his head. “How about I introduce your stepfather to the guy you met with?”

 

Matt felt himself flinch for the first time since they had started talking, the memory of the guy with the messy hair and his fists crashing into him like a bullet train. Tom must have noticed too because he kept silent and waited patiently.

 

Matt took a breath, feeling his lips tremble the slightest. “Make sure he is crueler with my stepfather than he was to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

Matt was woken up a couple of days later by the phone ringing. He had slept worse since the stoner guy – _Tom_ , he reminded himself – had appeared in his life again. Tom seemed like he could come and go in Matt’s apartment as he pleased and that had Matt on edge, always expecting to wake up to the sound of someone trying to get in. He answered the phone, still half unconscious and had almost fallen back asleep before someone spoke to him.

 

“Matt? It’s Tom.” That had Matt open his eyes and sit up in the bed so fast black spots prickled his vision. “It’s gonna happen today, do you know what you need to do?”

 

Matt nodded but remembered that Tom couldn’t see him and swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

 

“Remember, keep them occupied until at least five o’clock, we’ll clear out before then.” And then the connection was broken, Matt was left with a silent phone in his hand.

 

He had called his mother and told her – by Tom’s instructions – that he wanted to go shopping for new furniture and that he had saved up some money for it. Tom had given him money and told him that it was essential to the plan – “ _Tell her you need new furniture. Women love to shop for that kind of things, it will take all day and you need new furniture anyway”_ – but Matt was pretty sure he just wanted to pay him off.

 

He had rented a big van and picked his mother and sisters up; Tom had been right, they loved spending Tom’s money on frivolous things for Matt’s apartment. Did he really need **four** decorative cushions for the new couch?

 

It was good though, they were distracted and out of the house and Matt could get lost in his own thoughts. The thought of the messy haired guy beating his stepfather up like he had done to him had him feeling both sick and pleased at the same time. Which made him feel even sicker. He didn’t know what was happening in the house though, but the nagging feeling of a terrible mistake being made followed him the rest of the day.

 

He knew that Tom wasn’t one of the good guys; it probably wasn’t wise to get involved in these kinds of businesses with that kind of people, but Tom was the kind of person he needed right now. He just hoped the Tom that he had talked to on the phone this morning would do a better job than the Tom he first met on the street that day a year ago.

 

In the afternoon he had tried to buy his mother and sisters dinner but his mother was getting restless, talking about her husband being at home all alone with no one to make him dinner. Matt stalled as much as he could but reluctantly took them home and dread started creeping up on him the closer they got, just what would they find when they got there? And however he tried they still arrived back at his mother's house a few minutes to five.

 

His mother had hurried out of the car and entered the house and Matt had tried to hurry after, unsure about what scene would meet her. He told himself that there was no way they were still in there with just five minutes to spare, but he still had the sinking feeling that something might have gone terribly wrong. As he entered the house it was spotless. No mess, no sign that anyone had been there and, best of all, no sign of his stepfather.

 

The house wasn’t half empty like he had expected it to be, he suspected that Tom had only let the man take his clothes and most personal belongings. Matt walked into the living room, discreetly trying to look around to see what was missing and only noticed a few gaps in the bookshelf and the record collection. Personal belongings.

 

He found his mother crying in the kitchen, holding a letter and he hugged her, taking the letter from her as carefully as he could.

 

_Work opportunities out of state. Need a fresh start. Filing for divorce. Don’t want anything. Goodbye._

 

All according to plan, Tom had pulled through and as much as it pleased him that the man was gone he felt sorry for his mother. Matt helped her to bed, comforted her until she fell asleep; after what he had done, it was the least he could do. He cooked for his sisters and told them that the bastard was gone. Told them that if they ever saw him again they should call Matt, before he sent them to bed.

 

Before he left he took one last look through the house; apart from a knife that was out of place in the kitchen there was nothing that would tell anyone what had happened there that day. The knife had him shudder and for the briefest moment he wondered what Tom and the messy haired guy had done, but decided to not dwell on it. It was done, and he had no regrets about it.

 

Outside the house he found that the van he had rented earlier was missing, it wasn’t where he had parked it and a sudden rush of tiredness washed over him. It was probably stolen and he was so screwed; getting this sorted would be a shitload of work that he just couldn’t care about right now. He borrowed his mother’s car – he would be back first thing in the morning anyway – and drove home, deciding to care about all those other things tomorrow. He had done enough for the day.

 

At home his old furniture was gone, the new in the places left by the old ones and his personal belongings back where they should be. Like the furniture had always been there. He couldn’t hold back a relieved laugh; this was Tom’s doing and, no matter how creepy it was that the guy seemed to come and go as he pleased in Matt’s apartment, it was kinda nice. On the coffee table he found a note.

 

 _It’s done. Took care of the van._ _Goodbye._

 

He tried calling Tom before going to bed that night, to thank him, but got no answer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the last chapter, hope you've enjoyed this!
> 
> Thank you all who dared read this! ;)

Tom had backed away after he had dealt with Matt’s stepfather; he knew that Matt wasn’t comfortable around him and he didn’t want to intrude anymore. He had started to care for the young man and he didn’t want to make him feel bad by appearing again and again in his life, reminding Matt about their first meeting. He had done what he could to make amends, and he wished that Matt would get his old life back.

 

And, frankly, Travis had given him a hard time for his little operation. He had called it a reckless high profile stunt that could've drawn a lot of unwanted attention to them, especially since Tom brought along Mark and several others from their crew. He had to put in extra time into work after that to get back on Travis good side, but it was okay; he had paid off his debt to the young man and, just maybe, Matt had forgiven him a bit.

 

Matt had called him almost every night since the incident, for several weeks now, and he had ignored every call. Steadfast in his decision to back off and let Matt move on, though the curiosity of **why** the younger man was calling was almost driving him insane. He knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to keep his resolution of staying away if he heard Matt’s deep voice asking him for anything else, so he had no other option but to refrain from picking up the phone. They were done now. Matt needed to stop calling him so he could move on with his life. And so that Tom could move on with his.

 

But Matt had started haunting him in a new way since he had called and asked Tom for help. Where Tom had previously dreamed about Matt’s scared eyes, he was now dreaming about the look he had when he was at home; eating take out, relaxing a bit more for every minute and finally even giving Tom a glimpse of a pretty smile. Where his mind had previously tried to block out the memory of the night of the kidnapping, Tom started fantasizing about how he stepped in and saved Matt from Mark’s assault. Would Matt have looked at him differently then?

 

He tried hard to block out any thought of Matt, but when he lay in his bed and tried to sleep the images of the younger man would inevitably return. Sometimes he had abandoned sleep to get high, other times he dragged Mark with him out on bar rounds. Just to do anything but consider his thoughts of Matt too closely.

 

One night as Tom was checking his voicemail he had a message from Matt. Reluctantly he listened to it. “Tom? Help me.” And then nothing more. Before Tom realized what he was doing he had pocketed his car keys and was walking out of his apartment, hurrying down the stairs to his car and was halfway to Matt’s apartment.

 

He realized that he had just dropped everything the moment Matt had asked him for help and it was fucked up. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had fallen for the blond young man. Because that was what it was, right? Dropping everything for someone he hardly knew just to help them.

 

Maybe if he had allowed himself to examine his new feelings for the kid sooner he would have been able to make sense of this by now. But he hadn’t and now he was speeding to the apartment where the source of his confusion was waiting for him, his mind in a mess.

 

As he arrived he took the stairs at record speed and knocked on Matt’s door. When Matt didn’t open right away he thought about picking the lock again to get into the apartment on his own, adding to his mental list to tell Matt sometime that he should get a bolt lock on his door.

 

Matt finally opened the door and stared at him, like he hadn’t really expected Tom to show up and with something like... relief?

 

“Are you okay, what happened?” Tom winced, afraid he was coming off too strong and scaring Matt away, but Matt didn’t react. He just turned on the spot and walked back into the apartment. Tom watched him as he walked over and sat down on the couch and after a few second he followed Matt into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

 

“Why won't you leave me alone?” Matt’s question had Tom taken aback.

 

“And who’s calling who all the time?” Tom pointed out, the blush painting Matt’s cheeks at the remark had him grin and he felt pleased with himself.

 

“I meant in my mind, why can’t I get you out of my head?”

 

Tom watchfully approached Matt, he didn’t know what to say to that. He carefully sat down in the armchair across from the couch; the younger man hadn’t redecorated, just left everything as Tom had set it up. A note on the table between the couch and the armchair, the same note that he had left the last time he was there. For some reason that had his heart beat faster.

 

“I shouldn’t be in your life, you don’t want that.” Tom said, trying to keep his face blank as his mind raced. He was watchful of every shift in feature on Matt’s face, how he cast down his eyes in a nervous manner. “I’m no good to be around and you know that.”

 

Matt biting his lip looked oddly sweet, almost bashful. “That’s the thing, I don’t think I care about that.”

 

Matt might have said something else, Tom couldn’t be sure as all he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears, vision blocking out everything but the blond young man before him. _Oh fuck_ , he thought, he really was in love with Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for getting this far!
> 
> I enjoyed writing this (even if I have been a bit scared of publishing this) and hope you liked it.
> 
> Feel free to leave feedback.


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